


Freedom

by wolfgun



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Other, Post-Endgame, endgame spoilers, im really really sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 16:48:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6618505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfgun/pseuds/wolfgun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Out of all these eighteen years, Mikleo has always prided himself with being the pillar. The one that holds everyone together; the thing that keeps everyone above the rushing water.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Freedom

Out of all these eighteen years, Mikleo has always prided himself with being the pillar. The one that holds everyone together; the thing that keeps everyone above the rushing water. He wouldn’t let himself break; no matter what, and even when he needed release, he didn’t let himself go. Not in front of others.

That was the difference between him and Sorey.

Sorey was open with just about everything; what he ate, what he did, what he felt. He allowed himself to let the tears fall, and perhaps that was the best thing about him; that at the toughest times, he let himself feel. He let everything happen. He knew exactly how much to let go, so he could fill himself back up again and continue on.

So when that final day came, and Mikleo lost everything he had ever lived for; he completely broke. Even though he knew he would lose Sorey, even though he promised, and this was the only way, he—

He had watched his mother sacrifice herself again; and he was so, so very proud of her; he was proud to be her child, proud, oh so proud, to watch her become the guardian again. His fingers brushed his circlet—her circlet—and he pursed his lips, breathing deeply and composing himself. He needed to continue. He needed to see this through. For her. To make sure her sacrifice wasn’t in vain.

She didn’t recognize him; but it was enough that he had met her, it was enough that he was with her, if only just once. If only it was to never see her again.

That was the first crack.

And then, when they met the enemy of enemies, the Lord of Calamity; they knew what they had to do. They knew it, and yet—when Gramps’s face appeared, he heard the raw sound his throat made before he knew he had done it. And Sorey was there, right alongside him; and he felt the same way Mikleo did, and they both knew what they had to do, but how—

How could they turn their blades against the man that raised them? How could they really, truly justify it in their hearts? Tears streamed down their faces, and Mikleo closed his eyes before he saw Gramps disappear—

And that was the next crack.

Even after that blow, Heldalf transformed into something unheard of; something that combined the power from the God among Gods with the malevolence of the world; choking, tainting, changing. The air was thick with grief and the pressure made it hard to breathe; but when he felt Sorey beckon, he couldn’t ignore the call; and he gave all his power to the Shepherd. One last time.

Their spirits floated up and away out of Camlann; and he materialized on a cliffside. He rolled over onto his hands and knees and coughed; his existence felt shaky. After being fired through that gun, he knew it had taken time for his body to restore itself; but…

He snapped back into focus, and glanced around. He saw the shimmering forms of Edna, Zaveid, and Lailah; but where was—

“Mikleo?”

He glanced up, relieved to see that familiar red hair. If she’s here, then… his heart fluttered hopefully.

“Rose, where’s—“ Her expression stopped him. His head fell, and he stared unseeing at the floor.

“He’s… he pushed me off. I… I was going to help him…” He couldn’t look at her; he knew tears were pooling in her eyes. He couldn’t let himself… “He… that idiot… he really…”

One by one, the others came back; first Edna, then Lailah, and then Zaveid. It was unspoken between them. They just knew.

Lailah was the first to raise her eyes to the beam of light that flowed from the Camlann to the heavens; she breathed in a shaking breath and folded her hands on her chest.

“Sorey…”

By some unanimous agreement, they stayed the night near Camlann. The world was lighter; Mikleo could feel it in the flow of the rivers and the moisture that surrounded the Earth; the malevolence had been purified. His heart tightened.

He couldn’t find peace. For once in his life… he was completely and utterly at a loss. He couldn’t stop thinking, and he found himself unable to hold back the dam of thoughts that flooded into his head.

He didn’t know where he could go… where to start. What he could do. What his purpose was. Where he needed to be. He—

A sharp whack on the head brought him out of his reverie.

“What’re you doing here, Meebo?” Edna looked on at him, her face less harsh than usual. Her eyes looked swollen.

“I… I don’t know,” he mumbled, looking away. His eyebrows twitched into a slight furrow, and he glanced around absentmindedly; looking for that familiar, brown—he sucked in a breath, unable to meet Edna’s gaze. Another whack, this time lighter.

“Don’t do that,” she said softly. He just nodded. She sat down beside him, and for the first time since all this began, he felt himself begin to break. Tears threatened to pour down his cheeks, and he inched away from Edna, a bit embarrassed; he jumped up.

“I—“

“It’s okay, Mikleo.” Lailah appeared on his other side, pulling him back down to the log. He just shook his head, unable to speak; afraid that the words would get stuck in his throat. Rose sat behind him, and Zaveid leaned on a tree nearby. Mikleo shook his head harder; willing the tears to go away, willing the burning sensation in the back of his throat to stop, wishing that his chest would stop constricting—

And then, as if called by the extreme emotion, a rain began to fall, just as the water seraph cried. Just like that, the seraph became what he really was; a boy; a boy broken by the whispers of the past that continued to linger in the present, by the malevolence that had gripped him before. It was as if the world wept with the seraph; that the seraph wanted the world to know that it lost someone dear to it. And the world knew that, too. It wasn’t just their small group of friends that lost something important, it was the rest of their friends who sat by their fires and slept in their beds, the people they met, the woods they’ve passed through and the paths they’ve walked, it was the entire world that lost something.

But then, as Mikleo’s lungs filled with air over and over again, he also knew that the world had gained something in exchange.

Freedom.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry...  
> i obviously love pain, and suffering, and i cried like three times while writing this.
> 
> Also this is unedited, i'm in too much emotional pain atm to edit it so here take it please. augh.


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